


I'll Be Haunting You

by oneofthemtheaternerds



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, I'll add more characters/tags as this goes on, John is a Guardian Angel, Philip is kinda ooc but b/c he wants revenge, ghost au, pranks are best revenge, to lil Philip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-05-14 04:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneofthemtheaternerds/pseuds/oneofthemtheaternerds
Summary: An au where Philip comes back and haunts Eacker, but it’s not shippy at all, it’s literally Philip pranking him over and over until he dies too.[Based off this post: http://oneofthemtheaternerds.tumblr.com/post/173976775262/freesmooches-oneofthemtheaternerds]





	1. Philip {November 24th}

**Author's Note:**

> Philip dies & wants revenge
> 
> I'm bad at summaries, haha sorry.
> 
> Slight TW for Death & some small panic attacks (Pip doesn't handle his death v well)

Philip watched through his tears as his father started at his mother’s voice coming from the doorway. “Is he breathing, is he going to survive this?” 

_No_ , he thought sadly as he struggled through a deep breath, fighting the urge to close his eyes. But it was getting harder and harder by the second. 

“Who did this, Alexander do you know?!” Eliza demanded, grabbing his dad’s shoulders and shaking him rather violently.

“Mom, I’m so sorry for forgetting what you taught me,” Philip choked out, trying to raise his uninjured arm to her. _To just be lucky to be alive. To come home unharmed at the end of the day. To not get into stupid fights that lead to stupid duels. To stay alive, to just stay alive._

Eliza grabbed his hand in between hers and knelt by his bed. “My son-” she was already trying to not let her sobs interfere with her words.

“We played piano” Philip smiled weakly, tiny dots of black spotting his vision. “Do you remember that?”

His mother’s expression mirrored his, she took a shaky breath and squeezed his hand. “I taught you piano,” she nodded, voice strained.

“You would put your hands on mine.”

“You changed the melody every time.”

“I would always change the line.” Behind her, Alex nearly crumpled in on himself, no doubt regretting everything he had done in Philip’s lifespan. There was nothing Philip wanted to do more at that moment than to jump off the bed. To run over and hug his ma and pops and tell them that he was ok, that the bullet just skimmed him, that he was feeling better already and was ready to go home. _That everything was going to be ok,_ but even he knew that was a lie. The pain was getting too unbearable and it was almost impossible to keep his eyes open at this point. Every time he blinked, he could see The Light.

He was going to die.

Through his frantic thoughts, he could barely hear his ma whisper “I know,” just as Alexander had done minutes before. “I would always change the line”, Philip repeated through a sob in lue of anything else to say. He didn’t think he’d have enough time to tell them everything before he took his last breath. And even if he did, he knew his parents were desperately grasping onto those last few shreds of Hope. Who was he to tell them it wasn’t worth it, and have his last sight be their expressions of heartbreak increasing tenfold?

There was also another voice in his head saying that maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to survive this. “...quatre cinq six sept huit neuf.” Eliza’s singing snapped him out of his state and, even though he wasn’t quite sure when she started, he echoed her notes in his own way, way before this disaster had happened.

He heard his ma say “good”, but she sounded distant. At long last, he let his eyes close and he heartbreakingly finished her word with “-bye”.

They both sang the _one two three_ together, the light at the end of the tunnel growing larger and larger in his peripheral vision until it was overtaking his vision and his body with an unwelcoming calmness. He took a shuddering breath to brace himself for whatever would happen next.

When the light faded, he found himself standing on a fluffy white surface; the texture almost cloud-like but not quite. The same surface stretched on for miles in each direction, the only things here seeming to be himself and--oh.

A little to his left, there was a man who, despite being older and having large white wings, looked almost identical to him. He had his arms crossed over a old soldier uniform (Philip vaguely remembered his pops showing him one that looked just like that when he was telling one of his Army stories), and he was shaking his head fondly, an adoring smile on his lips. “Just like your old man.” The man chuckled, crossing the distance between them.

“Huh?”

“Ya both never really learned when to stop, didja? Always getting into trouble all the time.” He laughed, but it almost sounded fake, as he pulled the young boy in for a hug. “I remember this one time Alex had us thinkin’ he was dead for real during the war--that man, I swear--an’ we were celebrating his life at the bar. Suddenly he just pops through the door, soakin’ wet and grabs a glass the bartender had just put down for me.” He laughed again, more wholesome, pulling away. “Nearly scared the shit out of us. Burr screamed an’ threw his glass to the counter. Sweared he was too drunk and hallucinatin’ even though he hardly had a drop.”

Philip realized with a start that this was the John Laurens. His pops would tell stories and talk for hours on end about him, along with Marquis de Lafayette and Hercules Mulligan. John was the only one of their little group, unfortunately, to die thus far.

He was surprised when he was engulfed in another hug, even more so when he realized there were silent tears streaming down his cheeks. A sob racked through his body and he hugged back this time, let John comfort him by tracing circles on his back and running his fingers through Philips hair, though he didn’t say a word until Philip’s tears were silent once more.

He then knelt down in front of him and squeezed Philip's shoulder reassuringly. “You’ll be okay,” he sighed, “Let’s be honest, you probably wanna sock me in the eye right now cause I said that. And the first couple days here are gonna feel like hell, I’m not gonna lie. But you’re a strong man, just like your dad. You’ll get through this in no time.”

Philip blinked. “We’re in hell?” He squeaked.

“No! No no no no no!” John laughed, shaking his head again. “The opposite, actually.”

“Oh.” Phillip muttered, looking down at the ground. “B-but will my fam’ly be okay? Will my siblings remember how much I loved them? How I had spent most of my life thinking that I didn’t deserve them as my family? Hell, will Willy or Betsy even remember _me_?” He pulled at his hair, looking wildly at the fluffy-like floor. “An’ how’s my poor ma and pops gonna take this, John?!” He asked, not meeting the others’ gaze. 

“My poor pops’ prob’ly gonna beat himself up about this and say it was his fault. And My ma--oh my _god_ , my _ma_!! She’s still getting over Auntie Peggy’s death and the Reynolds Pamphlet and then of course _I_ had to go and get offended by some nobody’s opinion and get in a duel and this is my fault, this is my fault, this is my fa--” He felt Laurens take his hand, gently squeeze it. 

“Philip.” John soothed “Philip, just breathe. They’re going to be okay, Pip, it’ll take time but it’ll all be okay. Trust me, it’s not your fa-.” Tears came to the boys eyes once more; he was surprised they hadn’t come sooner, all things considering, but he guessed that the familiar nickname and the way John had said it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

“Oh my god, shit, shit, shit! I’m so sorry!” He heard the older man cry out. Another hug. “I remembered your parents callin’ ya that all the time and I guess it kinda just slipped out, I swear to god, I’m so so sorry!”

“I..I-it’s-” Philip tried, only to be cut off by Laurens shushing him. His wings enveloped him as well a second later, similar to the way a mama bird might protect her young. They brought a sense of peace onto him and he found himself melting more into his older doppelganger’s touch.

After a few minutes--or seconds, it was hard to tell time in this place--Philip pulled away reluctantly, wiping at his eyes. “You good?” John asked him.

“Yeah. I-I think your wings helped me out a lot.”

John beamed, flapping them slightly in delight. “Good! I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He folded them behind his back. “And Philip?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not your fault. Things’ll change and everything’ll get better. And I know I’m saying that a lot but it’s what you really need to hear right now, trust me.” That's when he saw Philip’s look. One that was earily similar to Alex’s right before he proposed a crazy scheme.

“You’re right.” It was so quiet that John hardly heard him.

John blinked. “Huh?”

“You’re right,” Philip repeated with more volume.

A mix of hope and worry was written all over John’s face. “Philip?”

Anger coursed through Philip’s body and he took a threatening step forward. “It really isn’t my fault, is it? It’s not my fault my pops’ll never be able to call me ‘Pip’ or ‘My pride and joy’ or anything else again, will he? Not while I’m there! Hell, I won’t be able to write poems with him again or help my ma in the garden, or my siblings with their homework, or even spend time alive with anyone ever again cause-” he let out a sarcastic laugh and gestured to himself “I’m kinda dead!” He felt a twinge of regret as soon as he saw John’s face twist into one of unadulterated distress. He knew he was lashing out; John hadn’t done anything wrong. 

“Phil, I didn’t mean to--”

“And you know who’s fault that is?!” Philip asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

John flinched. “Who’s?”

“Eacker’s.”

There was a moment of silence, then “That little punk that killed you?”

“Yeah.”

Laurens visibly relaxed, taking a step towards the younger man. “Yeah, okay, I’m with you on that. And I’m all for you avenging yourself and your father. But there’s really not much you can do.” He paused, furrowing his brow in thought. “Unless…”

“Unless? Unless what?”

“Well, you technically haven’t crossed yet.”

“Crossed? But I thought we were in--”

“No, right now we’re in a Limbo. Kinda like a type of waiting area between life and death,” John offered as an explanation. “After people die, they wait here and your guardian angel takes them to heaven or hell respectively.”

Philip frowned. “What if somebody doesn't have a guardian angel?”

A shrug. “Then they don’t cross. They go back to the Living World and become ghosts. They can come back to wait in Limbo whenever they want, but most don’t bother cause they don’t see a point.”

“...Huh.” Philip bit his lip in thought. “And those who crossed? Can they come and go as they please, too?

“...Not exactly.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Most on the Other Side don’t really want to leave; it’s a blissful paradise, they don’t see the point--unless you’re in hell, but that’s kinda obvious why you can’t escape from there.” John ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a short laugh. “The only way to try and leave is to sign up to be the angel of someone, but then you’re chained to their life for however long they live. They _do_ allow you to cross back and forth this way, though.”

“So, you’re saying… if I were to cross, then the only way I’d be able to get back at Eacker is to become his guardian angel?”

“Yup. And even then you can’t really harm him. You can just…” He twirled his hand in the air, glancing away. “Guide him into different decisions,” he finished finally.

Philip blinked. “Oh. So if I wanted to, I c--wait a second.”

“What?”

“Does that mean that _you_ guided me into going into that duel?!”

“No, buddy,” Laurens chuckled. “That was all on you. But hey, at least you can get back at him without getting hurt anymore.”

“Gee, thanks.”

John held his hand up in surrender, though his eyes showed nothing but mirth. “It’s better than nothing! And besides,” he added, tone suddenly serious as he knelt in front of the young Hamilton. “The people on the other side won’t like me saying this but… he’ll kinda deserve it. The stuff he said about your dad…” He shook his head, hands clenched into fists. “I woulda just kicked his ass then and there.”

That brought a smile to Philip’s face. “I wouldn't be lying if I told you I wanted to do that too.”

“I know,” Laurens rolled his eyes. “I had to coax you out of it.”

“How?”

“A fuckton of willpower.”

“Impossible.”

“Shut up kid, you hardly know me.” But there was no heat behind it. He stood up, brushing invisible dust off himself “But...before you go, do me a favor, okay?” He added, squeezing Philip’s shoulder.

“Okay?”

“Don’t… actually harm him--er--give him sever injuries. Cause, until you cross, you’re technically my responsibility and if He finds out you hurt or killed someone in my care---” He trailed off, biting his lip. “We’d both end up in hell.”

Philip’s eyes widened. A soft oh escaped his lips.

“Don’t get me wrong, He’s really forgiving, it’s just… not as much on--”

“Yeah yeah no, I got it.” He waved him off, looking behind him when a sudden noise disrupted the otherwise calm space. A tunnel had suddenly appeared where there was only white seconds before. 

He took a hesitant step towards it--though he wasn’t quite sure why--and he looked back at Laurens again.

“I’ll be here if you need anything,” John smiled. “Just come into Limbo, call my name, and I’ll appear.”

Philip nodded and, without further ado, stepped into the tunnel.

The stars were out when Philip arrived again on Earth. He was a little surprised, as it was dawn when he had died and his time in Limbo talking to his angel didn’t seem like that long, but he figured time passed faster here than it did after death.

Now he was stuck with another problem: He had no idea how to get to Eacker’s. 

In a blind first attempt, he snapped his fingers, thinking about his destination all the while. Minor shock hit him again when he found himself in Eacker’s room--he hadn’t expected this way would actually _work_.

He was now standing at the foot of the older boy’s bed. George was sound asleep, as if he _hadn’t_ just killed a man yesterday. 

Philip grinned. This was gonna be fun.


	2. Eacker [Nov 24th-Nov.25th]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip pays Eacker a visit & is a salty/sassy boi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to hxstoryrewrxtten (or HellsPurestDevil) for helping me through some of my nerves on writing/publishing this. finger guns **You the best.**

_Philip ran into Eacker’s box, fists clenched, looking for a fight. “George! George!” He called._

_Eacker’s eye twitched and he turned around to see the young Hamilton boy. “I’m tryna watch the show!”_

_“You shoulda watched your mouth before you talked about my father though!” Philip cried as he whipped out a gun from his belt. They were suddenly in their duel spot. George looked around wildly and, before he had a chance to pull out a pistol of his own, Philip was already counting._

_“Wait, I’m no-” A gunshot interrupted him, followed by a blinding pain in his gut. He looked down in horror to see his own blood spilling out of his body like a river._

_He saw his second and the doctor Philip brought along rushing forward in an attempt to help him. “He probably won’t make it,” the doctor said. “He’s lost to much blood. I think he’s already dead.”_

George shot up from his bed in a sweat, breathing hard. A small phantom pain from where the bullet struck him in his dream came along and he put his hand over the spot _just in case_. Okay. No holes, no blood rivers, no bullets, he was fine.

Nevertheless, the doctor’s words echoed in his mind, he’s already dead. He’s already dead. _He’s already dead. A shiver went through his spine and he gathered up his covers again in an attempt to go back to bed._

_That is, until the sound of footsteps prevented him from doing so. Cautiously, he got out of bed and made to grab for his pistol he kept in his bedside drawer; he was the only one who lived in the house and he wasn’t about to let a thief get the best of him._

_A prolonged scratching on his wall somewhere to his right, some light knocking on his window to the left. “Haven’t you done enough harm with that?” Someone whispered; tugging at the gun in his grasp. The temperature in the room lowered significantly._

_He jumped back, shakily aiming the weapon in every direction he could think of. “Show yourself!” He demanded, somehow able to keep his voice steady. “Show yourself or I’ll shoot!”_

_His room grew colder. Loose pieces of paper began to fly wildly around and his light started to flicker. “You can try. All you’ll do is wreck your room though.”_

_His pupils dilated as he started backing towards his door. “I’ll call the cops, then. Show yourself or else this’ll get ugly.” He reached back and found his doorknob; he had left his phone charging downstairs, all he had to do was run downstairs and this whole mess would be over._

_Probably._

_Except. His door wasn’t opening. He turned around, his back to his room as he tried and tried again to open the hatch, but it still wouldn't budge._

_And everything behind him had fallen eerily still._

__Was this just another dream?_ he asked himself hopefully as he slowly faced his bed again, still trying in vain to open his door._

_There he saw Philip, the boy he was certain had died that morning, sitting cross-legged on his bed. And he didn’t look happy._

_“I showed myself.” Philip drawled, slowly starting to rise. “Happy?” George screamed, grabbed a book off his dresser, and threw it at the boy. Philip flinched, even though the album passed right through him. He looked up when he heard the object hit the floor, staring at it, then Eacker, then back again. “Did you really just try to attack a ghost?”_

_“You’re the one who flinched, you little fuck!” George retorted as he sandwiched himself against his door._

_“Yeah.” Philip floated off his bed and crossed his arms, giving him a look that could kill. “Cause I’m used to being...oh… you know...alive?!”_

_“What do you mean? You’re obviously alive, you wouldn't be here in my room if you weren't alive. Speaking of, why are you in my room? How did you even know where I live, you didn’t even know me like a month ago why the _fuck_ are you in my house?” His words stumbled out in a blur as he tried and failed to remain calm and continued to try and open his door._

_Philip smiled, reveling in this moment. “If I were alive, Eacker, how could that book have passed through me? How could I have made all your stuff fly around the room? How am I floating right now?” With each question he came closer until his nose was practically pressed against the other man’s. He smirked, dropping his voice to a whisper. “If I were alive, why was I announced dead this morning?”_

_“This isn't happening.” George pulled away from the ghost and put his head in his hands. “Oh my _god_ , this isn't happening. This has gotta be a-a-a dream! Yeah, that’s it! A dream inside a dream. Those happen, right? I’ll just go back to sleep and you’ll be gone when I wake up cause this is just some sort of twisted hyper realistic nightmare!”_

_“Uh huh.”_

_“I just gotta sleep for…” George turned his light off and shuffled around the spirit, who glowed a pale blue in the now darkened room. “...for five more hours. Then it’ll be morning and everything will be good again.”_

_“Shouldn't you wake yourself _up_ if you wanna escape a nightmare?” Philip asked, floating towards his bed. Eacker huffed and rolled on his side, facing his window, his back to him. “I’m not saying this _is_ a dream, but, if it was…?”_

_“Whoops too late already in bed.”_

_“I--”_

_“Listen, I’m not falling for any shit you got planned for me, and this dream’s not letting me leave my room so this is the only thing I can really do.”_

_Philip sighed, letting his arms dangle at his sides. “You really think this is a dream?”_

_“Yup.”_

_“Okay, fine. You know what? I’ll see you in the morning.”_

_“Sure you will.”_

_Philip scoffed, letting himself float on his back, arms holding up his head. “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize all this is real.”_

_Sunlight streamed through Eacker’s window, lighting up his room and waking him up slightly. He groaned, pulling his covers over his head and snuggling deeper into his bed, trying to salvage a few more minutes of sleep._

_“Oh good! You’re awake!”_

_The voice made George scramble to get up, resulting in him falling out of his bed. “What the fu--”_

_“Did you know ghosts don’t need to sleep?” Philip asked, leaning over him, a shit eating grin on his face. “I mean, how can we when we can see through our eyelids, right? But I thought it was pretty cool.”_

_“Oh my god.” Eacker clutched his head in his hands, staring at the floor._ Shit, shit, shit why’s this still happening?? __

_“Right? That was my reaction, too. Except...with more excitement.”_

_“Oh my _god_ , I’m going insane.” _This has gotta be a hallucination or _something._ What are the side effects of melatonin again?! __

_This just made Philip brighten even more. “Mmmmmayhaps you are, mayhaps you aren’t.”_

_George scoffed as he fought to untangle himself from his sheets. Even if this wasn’t a hallucination, he didn’t want to let his apprehension get to him. He had seen too many horror movies to know that panic wasn’t the way to go in these types of situations._ Maybe if I just play along, it’ll go away? _He glanced at Philip, biting his lip._

_“Okay.” He muttered, shoving down his fight or flight instinct and forcing his hands to stay still . “Let’s say, _hypothetically_ , that you are the real Philip.”_

_The phantom sneered. “I _am_.”_

_“Yeah, whatever. Who the fuck says ‘mayhaps’ anymore?”_

_“Mayhaps I do. And if I am a hallucination caused by your brain--which I’m _not_ , by the way--it means that you say it too. Subconsciously or otherwise.”_

_“Oh. My god.” Eacker ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, looking around for his alarm clock that usually sat on the small table next to his bed. Only… nothing was next to his bed this time. In fact, his bed was the only thing on the floor, next to his---wait. “Did you seriously put my b-bed on the ceiling while I was asleep?”_

_“Did ya know ghosts can reverse gravity, too? Can’t blame that on a hallucination, can ya?”_

_“Uh, y-yeah I c-can.” He knew he was stuttering; he just hoped it wasn’t very noticable. How insane did one have to be to actually think one’s bed was on one’s ceiling again? It was getting harder and harder to stay calm, and it certainly didn’t help that the intruder wouldn’t stop smiling at him--a cruel kind of smile, like he was a type of prey. “Anyway, uh. W-what time is it? I gotta get to--.” He was cut off by his own scream as Philip divided into Eacker’s bed, possessing it and setting it back down to its proper position. He then came back up to the ceiling, grabbed Eacker’s arm, and dragged him back down to his mattress._

_There, Eacker lay on his back in shock, waiting for his heart rate to slow down as Philip floated above him, happily drinking in every second of this moment. “Gotta go where?” The ghost asked the boy after his breathing slowed down a little._

_“I c-c-could’ve _died_.” George retorted. He’d never admit it aloud, but something like that never had happened before when he was under the influence of some pot or LSD--nevermind something as innocent as melatonin. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized not a lot of people suddenly go insane. Some, maybe--but aren’t there usually warning signs? _

_His eyes widened and heart sped up even more as that realization hit him like a ton of bricks. _Holy shit, this is_ real _!!__

_“--lease, tell me more~” Philip was saying._

_Everything in him was suddenly screaming at him to run away from this suddenly terrifying experience. But his pride somehow stomped down his burning itch to jump out of his first story window and run until no one could find him again. If he did that, Philip would know that what he was doing was _working_ and working well. So instead, he forced himself to get his breathing under control before muttering “I h-hate you, you little shit.” and tried to casually slide off his bed, ignoring how bad his legs were shaking.._

_Philip smirked, which didn’t help George at all; he was positive the ghost could see right through his new charade._

_Said spirit, still on his stomach, rested his head in his hands and kicked his legs in the air lazily. “And here I thought we had something special.”_

_“Oh my g-- you know, you’re worse than your father.” Philip froze. His eye twitched. The temperature of the room dropped 10 degrees as he tried his best not to make Eacker’s dresser fall over right on top of the man. Unaware, George turned his back on the spirit, going to his closet to pick out his outfit for the day. “I mean, I didn’t know him that well but I’ve read every single one of his Twitter Wars--and that’s saying something._

_In fact, just last week he was all excited about doughnuts or whatever and someone had told him they weren’t healthy. How’d he respond? Not with a simple ‘no shit, sherlock’ or ‘i’m sorry you can’t be me’ like everyone else. Nooo, he responds with a 28-thread tweet about how some of the things in doughnuts are beneficial and how, in the end, the--and I quote-- ‘soccer mom should mind her own damn business and stop bossing around every single human she can find.’_

_And then he got in _more_ fights when Jefferson came to defend her. I swear to god, the man has the self-control of a three year old and his ego bruises like a peach.’_

_Silence._

_“But you? You’re ten times worse! I--”_

_“You know what, Eacker? Considering you graduated as one of the brightest in your class, you really aren’t that smart.”_

_“ _Excuse_ me?”_

_Philip lowered himself down, made himself as visible as possible, and grabbed George’s shirt collar in his fist, forcing the two men to be nose-to nose with one another. “Congratulations,” he practically spat. “Just for that you’re stuck with me for the rest of your goddamn life.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Eacker dun goofed. Fear makes people do stupid things.
> 
> it feels like 50% of this is in italics but oh welps. __
> 
> _If anyone seems ooc or whatever, please let me know. I'm still new to writing for this fandom & working w/ the characters traits. Thanks so much!_
> 
> _Hope you enjoyed! Don't be shy to leave a comment or kudos if you did!_

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact!: Hamilton was announced dead after destroying British supply and trying to cross a river with British gun fire only to show up soaking wet later while everyone was drinking to his memory 
> 
> Peggy Schuyler died on March 14th, 1801 & Philip died on November 24th later that year.
> 
> List of Hamilton’s children: https://www.newnetherlandinstitute.org/history-and-heritage/dutch_americans/elizabeth-schuyler-hamilton/
> 
> Come hmu on Tumblr!: http://oneofthemtheaternerds.tumblr.com/
> 
> Huge thanks to Nackledamia for being my beta on this!!! :D


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